I'm a little late, but here's an episode for Halloween!


Chapter 5

It's raining by the time I pull up to the pizzeria. The last of the cleaning crew, a guy with red hair that clashes against the standard purple color the company uses, is leaving the building, waving me down as I get out of the car.

"Evening, Miss!"

I nod as I scurry under the awning, pulling down the hood of my grey hoodie to greet him. "Evening. Any issues before I got here?"

"Nah, everything's been quiet since the ankle biters went home. I was just about to lock her up for the evening. You the new night guard?"

I readjust my work bag on my shoulder and hold out a hand. "Yeah, I'm Christy. Christy Schmidt. It's my second night."

The guy grins big as his large hand envelopes mine, giving it an enthusiastic shake. "Miss Schmidt! Nice to meet you! The name's Ronnie. I'm the head of the sanitation staff here at Fazbear's. You wouldn't happen to be related to one Michael Schmidt, would you?"

"He's my older brother, actually."

"Good man, that one. Always a pleasure to see him." Ronnie opens up his umbrella. "Well I need to head on home. Can't keep the missus waiting too long. You have a good night now."

"Good night!" I wave as he heads out to his car and I head inside, locking the door behind me and sighing in relief now that the pounding sound of the storm is muffled.

I wonder sometimes if people realize just how quiet Fazbear's Pizza can be after all the ruckus of the day. No children screaming with parents shouting after them. No employees loudly singing the corporate happy birthday songs. The animatronics aren't performing and their rusted joints don't squeak from movement. There's no clanging of pots and pans from the kitchen or thumping of the janitors moving around various plastic tubs. Even the few arcade machines are turned off for the night.

The silence had just made it that much more eerie when the furry band started moving last night.

With a sigh I put my work bag down on one of the party tables and make my way over to the main stage, jumping up the side to get a better look at my supposed attackers. They don't move, just stand there looking out into the distance with empty eyes.

I wonder what exactly makes them go after night guards. A programming issue?

The articles and theories I read earlier talked about how a serial killer was known for shoving children's bodies into the abdominal cavities of the animatronics and that their spirits were the ones controlling them.

I prod at the chest of Chica, feeling the emptiness of the cavity underneath worn synthetic fur. It's hard to imagine anyone being cruel enough to do that to a kid. It's also unnerving to think that they never caught the guy who did it.

No wonder it makes for such crazy ghost stories.

"Poor kids," I sigh to myself, stepping away from the yellow band member. None of them have moved. Not surprising seeing as how I still have fifteen minutes before midnight, but somehow it still unnerves me. "Guess I should get to the office."

As I hop back down from the stage, I'm suddenly struck with an intense feeling of being watched. I feel frozen to the floor as I turn back to the three characters on stage. They still face forward. A heaviness settles over my chest and I feel the intense need to run, to escape, but I can't move. It's terrifying.

A flash of silver out of the corner of my eye grabs my attention towards Pirate's Cove.

There, past a small opening in the thick curtains, is what looks like a silver light.

It's an eye. I don't know how I know from here where I can just barely see it, but I know it's an eye and that it's staring directly at me.

I can't move. I can only stare back as my heart races in my chest and the smell of rot fills my nose.

And then I'm free. Under its gaze I feel my feet lighten and I sprint for the office, locking both doors as soon as I'm safe.

I can't stop the sobs that escape, feeling so stupid. This place can't really be haunted, right? Am I losing my mind?

My brain feels tender as I struggle to calm down. The headache from the storm feels like it's returning, wanting to become a migraine.

I reach over to grab a tissue from the desk to wipe my face, taking a moment to blow my nose. As I pull back I notice the white tissue is covered in red and feel hot liquid drip from my nostrils.

"I want to go home."


Remember to be kind to the person under the mask you wear. They deserve love too, not just the person you let others see.

Bless,

~Alpha